


A Trifling Matter

by kyri07



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: dmhgficexchange, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-07
Updated: 2011-10-07
Packaged: 2017-10-24 09:37:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/261893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyri07/pseuds/kyri07
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco, Hermione, a tent, and a bowl of trifle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Trifling Matter

This was it. This was the day Hermione Granger would ask someone else for help. She looked out the window just to make sure that the sky was indeed not falling. Sighing, she returned to her task of swirling the coffee around in her mug. Hermione hoped that maybe a burst of inspiration would hit her and she'd find a way out of this situation.

Not only did she have to admit she couldn't do everything herself, she would have to admit it to that snot-nosed prat. Hermione looked down at the Ministry's Annual Employee Retreat Invitation and grimaced. Every year since the end of the war, the Ministry had developed a new "bonding" experience for the employees. It was supposed to promote "interdepartmental friendship and cooperation," but seeing as it was a competition-based retreat, it usually ended up with the Dept. of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes and the Dept. of Mysteries attempting to hex each other to oblivion.

Hermione trekked to the loo and started to brush her hair. Fearing another broken brush, she decided that today she would spare no expense. With a deep breath, she took out the Sleek-Easy that Ginny had bought for her.

This time the theme of the retreat was the outdoors. Hermione had unintentionally mentioned camping to Arthur at a recent Weasley family dinner, and he had become obsessed with the idea. This would have been fine with Hermione, but unfortunately she had no tent. Nor did she have the means to get one. That's what spending all of your money on elf hats does to you.

Hermione wasn't typically a vain person, but when she looked in the mirror, she felt satisfied. Well, if she were going to deal with the devil, she might as well look good.

\---

"Erm—ahem… Malfoy…."

"Yes, Granger?" Malfoy didn't bother looking up as he flipped through the papers on his desk. Only one person would come into his office at this ungodly hour. "Any particular reason you barged into my office other than to ogle my superior self, Granger? Felt your morning coffee wasn't strong enough, so instead you decided to take up my appetizing offer?"

"Er..."

Finding it odd that for once Granger didn't have something to say, he glanced up from his desk. She certainly would be yelling at him right now about "bothering her with another one of his pathetic advances." Though he really thought they weren't all that bad. To his slight embarrassment, Malfoy noticed that the girl standing in his doorway was not adorned by a halo of bushy hair.

"Oh, I'm sorry; I thought you were Hermione Granger. You know the girl. Hair the size of a Christmas tree, color of a Yule log. It's rather dreadful, really. I have no idea how she manages to tame it."

Draco mumbled the last few words and grabbed open the Daily Prophet, strategically placing it in front of his face to hide his burning cheeks. Sufficiently covered, Draco thought back and cringed a little at his words. A Christmas tree? His insults really tended to revert back to his four-year-old self when he was embarrassed. It made for a very tough childhood. Draco coughed uneasily as he realized a small part of him was disappointed that the person standing in his doorway wasn't Granger.

"What can I do for you?" Malfoy asked, purposefully not looking up.

"Er…" The fact that Hermione ignored this blatant misuse of traditional yuletide objects attested to her state of uneasiness.  
"Uh... Malfoy, it's Hermione." Draco looked up, clearly confused.

" Um, nice try, but I won't fall for it. Granger looks the same everyday. And you most certainly don't look like her."

Draco put down the newspaper and peered at her. "Bollocks, it actually is you. What happened to that rat's nest?"

"I happened to have some extra time this morning. You think it looks alright?" Hermione patted her smooth hair gingerly.  
"Alright? You look more than alright. Er…your hair looks fine."

Hermione started to turn red at his intense scrutiny. Noticing this, Draco's face instantly cleared, and a smirk settled again. Granger certainly hadn't caught his slip up.

Unfortunately for him, he had actually meant it. Hermione's hair was hanging down, for once, in soft tendrils. The defined curls of her new hair were bouncing whenever she talked, which was infinitely distracting for Draco, who already had a short attention span.

"I was wondering if you have a camping tent I could maybe borrow?" she said, her voice rising unsteadily at the end. Draco snapped back to attention.

"Why are you asking me instead of Potter or Weasel? Is there something I should know?" He leaned forward, waggling his eyebrows at her. "Have you three broken up?"

"No, no. Well, you know how most new tents are suited for two…" he raised his eyebrows, "and, well, they both already have a second person. You know, Harry has Ginny; Ron has Lavender. So that leaves me with you."  
Malfoy leaned back in his chair, tilting back and forth while grinning at her like a madman.

"Oh, come off of it, Malfoy. I asked you because it's clear you have no one else."

Malfoy's chair slammed down as he frowned at her.

"No need to be cruel," he said sulkily. "Anyway, I don't think I have an extra."

"Ugh!" Hermione screamed. "You…." She muttered under her breath as she walked closer to his desk, her finger pointed accusingly at him. "I ask for one thing… after everything… you ungrateful—"

"What's the problem, Granger?" Malfoy smirked at her, leaning on the edge of his desk.  
Hermione stopped abruptly, crossing her arms and glaring at him.

"YOU. You are the problem. One thing. I ask for a tent, which I'm sure you have a separate country-house full of, and you go and pretend that you don't have any just because you can't stand my hair. Or another one of your many inane reasons," she yelled as she jabbed her finger at him, realizing her tirade had brought her right in front of Malfoy's desk. She closed her eyes and drew a breath, so she could start again. Hermione was unclenching her fists when suddenly he was standing right in front of her.

"I never said no," he whispered softly in Hermione's ear. She shivered at the unexpected contact. Hermione looked up at him, feeling a little heady, and realized he was waiting for a response.

"Oh," she said.

Hermione cringed inwardly at her response. Oh? She couldn't come up with anything better than "oh?" Where was her biting wit, her supposed sharp intellect…?

"Right… um, sure."

She sounded exactly like Draco's new secretary, Magda or whatnot. Hermione mentally added firing Magda to her to-do list.  
"Exactly," Draco replied, his mouth dangerously close to her own.

Hermione leaned in, backing Draco up against the desk. They were inches apart when Draco's wand hit the floor with a crash, making them instantly pull back. Draco sat back against his table.

"Right, so as I was saying before, I don't have an extra tent. But I do have a rather large one," Draco looked over at Hermione, "that I'm willing to share. But I have a condition."

"Of course."

"It seems we need to provide our own transportation…."

"Don't you have what Witch Weekly calls 'the best bloody brilliant broom this side of Merlin's beard?' Even though I have to say that's an atrocious misuse of alliteration."

"Ah well, my dear Granger. It appears we can't use broo—"

"I absolutely refuse to carry you. It was bad enough the last time."

Draco had the decency to blush as he recollected his last drunken escapade, which had culminated in his telling Hermione that he liked her hair because of its resemblance to his favorite holiday treat. Draco pretended he didn't remember anything he had said that night, and Hermione played along, not wanting to dwell on the fact that her hair did indeed look like burned gingerbread cookies.

"Wait, no brooms? Well then, portkeys are obviously not allowed either, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me for help. Though your portkeys could stand a little work, you know. You have the external theory right, but the internal spells could be—"

Draco shoved the invitation under her nose. Hermione sniffed, looking down at the piece of paper before a huge smile broke out on her face.  
"To comply with the overarching theme of this weekend, we request that you please find non-magical methods of transportation to the Ministry campsite," Hermione read out, a grin spreading across her face. Oh, this was going to be fun. She could imagine it: driving him in a car and accidentally dropping him at the wrong place, making him walk the entire way... the possibilities were endless. Malfoy's voice broke her out of her revelry.

"While I'd like to offer you my tent, transportation is not nearly enough. I could simply break the rules, as you know I am apt to do. What else do I get?"

Hermione had been expecting this and quickly shuffled out the door. She returned with a triumphant smile, holding a large bowl of trifle. Draco's eyes widened at the sight of Hermione's famous homemade chocolate cherry trifle. She only made it for their annual "Golden Trio groupies" Christmas party.

Usually Weasley and Longbottom got to it before he even arrived. It was a rare sighting in the middle of July, and Draco couldn't take his eyes off the glistening bowl of fruit and custard and moved forward, unaware of the desk.

Hermione knew Draco far too well at this point. Anticipating his reaction, she pulled back. "This is what you'll get at the end, if you fulfill your end of the deal."

"Are you sure I can't have any now?"

"No, Draco. That would defeat the purpose." He frowned.

"Also, it would ruin your appetite," she added as an afterthought. "And your teeth."

"What? If it can ruin my teeth now, won't it ruin them after I give you the tent?"

"Possibly, but at that stage I could care less."

"Please?" He inched toward her.

"No."

"Fine, you sugar scoundrel! Pretending you care about my appetite while plotting my untimely demise with a bowl of trifle. How beastly."  
Hermione couldn't help but laugh at the pained expression on his face.

"I don't want it that much anyway."

"Really, Draco. You also revealed your infatuation with yuletide to me that night. I vividly remember how you described my trifle. Gloriously brown with red cherries, like the color of your lips—"

"Alright, fine. But now you're just being cruel."

"I learned from the best."

Draco grimaced at her while he organized his papers, which had been scattered when he had lunged across the table for the bowl. He put the reports back into the piles he had sorted before—utterly mortifying work, dreadful work, and work that was alright but still not nearly as good as if he had done it. Draco frowned once again for good measure.

"Fine. Now leave. I have a potentially mind-blowing—ahem, you know what I mean—lunch date with Magda I really must get ready for." Draco smirked as he gleefully slammed the door on Hermione's livid face.

\---

It had been a particularly horrifying morning, with Draco showing up bright and early at her window. On the second floor. Hermione claimed she had been so frightened that a streak of hair grayed prematurely, and as a result Draco sported a large bump on his head from her cricket bat. She certainly had not been expecting that Draco would be on a broom, and had accidentally sent him hurtling to the ground.

They somehow managed to get into the car Hermione had rented in one piece, except for a few mishaps with Draco and the seatbelt. After a long drive, Draco and Hermione finally arrived at their site, where a small sign with their names was stuck into the ground. Hermione pulled the tent out of her sack, struggling with the large amount of material. Meanwhile, Draco was sitting on the chair he conjured, eating an apple, chuckling as the tent nearly fell on her. Of course it was typical for him to not help. Hermione wiped the sweat from her brow and stood arms akimbo, staring at the misshapen tent. She couldn't figure out what she had done wrong for the life of her. She had followed the directions perfectly. The only way to figure it out was to start over. Sighing, Hermione began to pull down the whole structure. Draco cleared his throat audibly and Hermione glared at him.

"I had some apple stuck in my throat. It's really quite juicy. Would you like a bite?" Draco offered the fruit to her. Hermione gave him a withering glance before turning back to her job. After twenty minutes and absolutely no progress, Hermione was completely flustered.  
"You couldn't possibly help, could you?"

"Of course not. I wouldn't want to develop calluses. My hands are perfectly soft from inactivity, and I plan to keep it that way."  
"You're definitely a shining example of a man."

"No, I'm actually a shining example of an overly pampered pureblood wizard. We always make the women do all the work." Draco winked at her from his seat.

"Go away before I hex you."

Hermione couldn't help but shake her head at him and grinned. He always made it so hard for her to stay mad at him.

"I thought you might like to know, you could have put up that tent with magic about forty minutes ago." Draco's head appeared around the large tarp Hermione was holding up.

She took it back. It really wasn't that hard to stay mad at him.

"MALFOY, you let me slave away here when I could have been inside the tent by now, enjoying a nice cup of tea? You are so full of it." She picked up the nearest stake and threw it at his head, which he nimbly dodged.

"Shouldn't the smartest witch in England have been able to figure that out?"

Draco gave her a saccharine smile.

"You better watch your back when you sleep," Hermione muttered.

"Oooh, I'm so scared." He smirked at her before skipping away.

\---

Ron squinted at the large pond in front of them.

"Why are we here again? Instead of in our beds, where it's dry."

Hermione gave Harry and Ron a severe look. "Revenge."

Harry hopped on one foot, trying to shake the mud off his boots. "Ginny will kill me if I come back dirty," he moaned as Ron nodded his head in sympathy.

"Lav is the same way."

"Didn't you hear what I said? Revenge! Against Malfoy! Remember him? Our unnaturally blond childhood nemesis?" Hermione shouted at them.

"Er... Hermione. That was ages ago. We're friends now." Harry gave her an odd look.

"Yeah, especially you two. You've been quite cozy. You and Malfoy were—" Ron looked at Harry who was shaking his head vigorously at him from behind Hermione,  
"—never friends. Of course not. How could you ever be nice to someone as despicable as him?"  
Ron smiled at his nice save as Harry gave him a thumbs up. Hermione, thankfully, had seemed to have missed his comment.

"Exactly! You are completely right, Ronald. Someone as horrid as him does not deserve to go unpunished."

Hermione looked towards Harry and Ron, and they nodded their heads energetically. "That is why we are going to find something soft and squishy to put in his bed." Hermione's grin was maniacal as she surveyed her surroundings.

"How about a frog? Fred and George did that once. It was rather unpleasant," Ron ventured.

"Perfect!" Hermione smiled brightly at Ron, who beamed back at her.

"Why are you encouraging her?" Harry whispered into his ear.

"It does sound rather fun, doesn't it? And Malfoy's reaction will be priceless," Ron whispered back, warming up to the idea. He trotted off after Hermione, who was walking around the pond. Harry was now utterly convinced he was the only one of them who wasn't barmy. He rubbed his eyes and sighed.

"Hermione! If you want to make this good, you should call Ginny."

\---

"This is brilliant! I can't believe you didn't call me earlier, Harry," Ginny exclaimed as she flipped another pillow over with her wand. The frog croaked from its place between two pillows, close to Draco's snoring face.

The four of them paused outside the tent, positioned to hear anything from Draco's bed. All of a sudden, a loud yell split through the air. Hermione and Ginny looked at the two boys and promptly broke out in laughter.

\---

"You are the spawn of the devil, Granger. And I am positive that you are absolutely bonkers."

Draco glared at Hermione as she walked into the kitchen, covering a yawn with her hand. He looked miserable and had dark circles under his eyes. After discovering the frog in his bed, he had spent the rest of the night huddled in a corner of the kitchen, nursing a huge mug of coffee. She winked at him and stretched her arms.

"I slept so well last night. What about you?" Hermione sat down, resting her chin on her hand, and fluttered her eyelashes at him.

"I might eat that trifle just to spite you, you lunatic," Draco said, his eyes flashing to the mantle above the fireplace.

She chuckled and bit into a muffin. After finally pitching the tent, Hermione had put a cooling charm on her bowl of trifle and displayed it prominently in a glass box on top of the mantle, as a reminder to Draco.

"You can try, Malfoy. I put so many jinxes on that box, you would have pink hair till Easter."

Draco blanched, and his face turned white. Hermione noticed this and started howling with laughter, nearly choking on her muffin. She hadn't expected him to try so early in the trip.

"What if I only had a bite?" Draco inquired nervously.

"Well then, just your nails would be pink."

\---

Hermione hated mirrors. She peered into the mirror, hoping that her various attempts at squinting would change the way her hair looked. No luck. Hermione piled her hair this way and that and bemoaned the fact that she hadn't brought her new hair-miracle find.

"MALFOY!"

"What?" Draco popped his head around the loo door.

"Did you happen to bring any hair gel in that oversized monstrosity of a suitcase?"

"Unfortunately not. By the way, I haven't used hair gel since second year. Though your hair is in dire need of help," he replied, picking up a limp ringlet and inspecting it.

"You mean you don't use any type of product?"

"Not at all." Draco smirked into the mirror, running his hands through his hair.

Hermione found this supremely unfair. Of course his hair looked so good naturally. Every other part of him did. She became incensed at the fact that he was so blessed. She turned on him and poked her bent hairbrush dangerously close to his eyes. "You...you…." Draco looked bewildered at her sudden change in mood.

"It's not fair! I hate that you're so…so perfect!"

Hermione stormed from the room and slammed the door behind her.

Draco smiled. She thought he was perfect.

Well, that was a first.

\---

"Granger, what's our thing?" Draco asked, leaning over her shoulder. He dipped a finger in the saucepan and popped it into his mouth. "By the way, it needs more pepper."

"Our thing?" she replied confusedly. Hermione tried to shoo him away from the stove as he stuck another finger in the sauce.  
"Malfoy! That's completely unhygienic."

"Actually, I take it back. It needs more salt." He looked thoughtful. "And yes, our thing."

"You realize the word 'thing' is a noun and can have many different meanings."

"You know, during the competition, Harry and Ginny always hold hands , Ron and Lavender always wiggle their fingers at each other like they're blithering idiots once they're done …."

"Do you want to hold hands?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at him.

"No that's not what I mean. The thing that makes others recognize us."

"Oh, like a shtick." Hermione waved her wooden spoon in understanding. Draco looked at her oddly. "A gimmick."

"Why are we talking about sticks, Granger? I swear, sometimes you act like you've completely lost the plot. I know you have this muggle fascination with 'nature,' but we are talking about a serious matter." He grabbed the salt from her and added two pinches.

"How about we wear matching hats?" Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

Draco stopped mid-action and paused, looking thoughtful. Hermione's eyes widened.

"I wasn't serious!"

\---

"That was brilliant."

"We were brilliant. I had no idea you would be so good at the egg walk. Who knew you had such poise?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at him as she fell onto the couch.

"Well, I am quite talented." Draco winked.

"You're such a prat!" She threw a pillow at him.  
Draco caught the pillow and moved closer to her. She held up a pillow in defense.

"You know I don't kiss till the third date." She looked at him from over the pillow.

"Really? So you wouldn't have liked it if I had tried on our first one? I'm not quite sure I believe that." He looked at her and waggled his eyebrows.

"Not that you would have been able to, since you were completely inebriated. You were horribly nervous!" Hermione started laughing at the memory.

"Possibly… weren't we never supposed to mention that night ever again?" Draco tried to move away but Hermione caught his arm.

"You know, it really wasn't that bad. It was actually quite adorable, except for the having to carry you home part."

"Fantastic, the great Draco Malfoy has been reduced to adorable." Hermione grinned at Draco's horrified expression before throwing her pillow at him.

"It really wasn't all that bad. I just never knew you liked Christmas so much. Seems odd for a Scrooge like you."

"In my defense, when I get nervous I think of Christmas, and that reminds me of my mum's eggnog, which was usually heavily spiked. It was completely necessary after having to deal with all the Malfoys…."

"You're really blaming your mum for your behavior? Shame on you, Malfoy. What would Narcissa say?" Hermione chuckled.

"Nothing pleasant," Draco mumbled. "It took me ages to ask you the first time, with those two burly brainless bodyguards. I had been plotting for nearly six months."

"Oh, so you were the one trying to sneak into my office with the allegedly poisonous hydrangeas."

"They were not poisonous! They just had a strong aroma," Draco retorted, waving his hands around wildly. "Weasley thought I was trying to kill you to get your job and ultimately locked me out of the loo instead of your office. That's why I ran into you in the ladies' toilet."  
Draco cringed at the memory of him blurting out a request for dinner while an astonished Hermione stood there washing her hands.

"So we have Ron to thank?"

"What a horrible thought. I'd rather not owe the Weasel anything, if it's alright by you. Now going back to before…." Draco scooted closer to Hermione.

"We've only been on two dates, you know."

"I guess I'll just have to ask you on another one," he said before whacking her with his own pillow.

 

\---

Hermione fumbled around with the wires, trying to remember how that bloke had taught her to do this at summer camp in the States. It was their last "teambuilding" challenge, and they had to construct a way to communicate without using magic.

She held the tin cups in her hands, trying to tie them together. Frustrated, she shoved a cup into Draco's hands along with one end of the string. He looked down with a confused expression on his face.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Tie it together, Draco. Be useful for once."

"I resent that, Granger."

Harry and Ginny were sitting next to them, working on their own muggle device.

"Why are Draco's nails pink?" Harry asked Hermione once Draco turned his back.

"Long story."

Hermione smiled at Harry, who shrugged in puzzlement. "Hey, I'm all for personal expression."

Draco turned back at that moment, his wires hopelessly tangled. Hermione sighed and trotted over to him. They finally pulled it together just in time as Mr. Weasley's voice boomed over the field.

"…And time's up! Put down your tools, utensils, or tiny gnomes! Go to your places, and the judges will be around soon."  
Hermione and Draco walked to their places and sat down, each one with a tin cup in hand. They were sitting on opposite sides of the line going straight through the field.

"Granger!" Draco shouted into the tin cup.

"What, Draco? You really don't need to shout; I can hear you fine."

"I love you."  
"What? I don't think I heard you right."

"I love you."

Hermione sighed. "No you don't, Draco."

"Maybe not yet. But I could."

Hermione smiled while removing the tin from her ear. This was certainly progress.

\---

"When will they admit that they're together?" Ron huffed as he looked at them.

Draco and Hermione were huddled together on the other side of the campfire, yelling at each other about who had really won their game of cards, which was scattered at their feet.

"We all know about it. Pretending that they hate each other won't fool anyone."

Ginny smiled as she looked at them and turned to Ron. "I guess it's just their thing."


End file.
